It's been a while...

Breakdown

Everything was going fine; I was getting motivated to do more things; I was reading and printing papers to prepare my exams. Everything was getting better. I felt good at the day clinic and I was half way through the three months.

Then suddenly one Monday night I broke down. I was out with some friends for pizzas and I couldn't enjoy myself; it felt like I was with strangers even though I've been best friends with them for years. In addition, I was drinking that night: a beer, a few glasses of wine and a limoncello digestive. When I got home, I was about to explode. I don't remember much but I was crying and yelling all the ways I could kill myself.

Naturally my parents were very concerned and ended up calling the psychiatric ER. The responder told us to come to the ER right away. I don't remember much of my breakdown because I wasn't myself; it was like I was possessed. I do remember seeing double when we were in the car.

When we got to the ER, the nurse in charge took me to a room and asked me a bunch of questions. Honestly I don't remember much but apparently I was just listing ways to end my life. Then my parents joined us and we talked for a bit (I really don't know what we said). Anyways, the nurse had already decided that I was going back to the psychiatric hospital. I said I was okay with that only if I wouldn't be placed in the same unit as the last times ("Hermès": they treated me like shit and didn't know how to do their job). So they made a few calls and told me there was one bed left in an another unit (Atlas: for psychosis which is not my case). However she told me it was possible they would transfer me back to the unit I didn't want to go to in the morning. So I flipped out: I started saying I wanted to go home and I wouldn't go to the hospital if they couldn't promisse me that I wouldn't end up in the shitty unit. So we argued for a while and then they decided to place me in the hospital in involuntary.

So I embarked on my fourth ambulance ride. I also don't remember much of the rest. I got to the hospital at two in the morning, they took my vitals, showed me to my room and I went to bed.

Back at the psych ward (Atlas)

The next morning (Tuesday) I was feeling pretty good so I was mad I was back at the hospital. The goal for both the doctors and myself was to make the hospitalisation as short as possible. However the first few days were tough: I slept a lot, didn't do much and when I did do something it was having a breakdown. I did try to take my own life two to three times but after a week I was feeling better. I was even making plans for the future. I could've left the hospital on Tuesday (one week hospitalisation) but I decided to stay until Friday to be well stabilised before going out into the world again.

6 days

I got out Friday early in the morning and went shopping in the afternoon. During the weekend I planned out activities to keep me occupied and escape my thoughts. I just can't remember what I did on Saturday. On Sunday I went skiing with my father and it felt nice, though I was still pretty down.

On Monday I went back to the day clinic. I was honestly doing really well. Of course I was still bored at times but time was moving faster and I felt like I was gaining momentum. The evenings (Monday and Tuesday) were way better than before: I did things and didn't turn round and round until bed time. I pulled my shit together and made calls for appointments that I had missed. I even prepared papers for my exams and was thinking about going back to gymnastics.

Then came Wednesday: I was well. Honestly nothing went wrong that day: no panic attacks, no breakdowns, nothing. When I got home, everything was fine, I don't remember what I was doing but suddenly something dawned on me: I'm going to end it all.

Suicide attempt

It was a sudden decision that came out of nowhere. I went down to the cellar and drank some rum; I wanted to have one last cup of my favourite drink (alcohol) before dying. I went back up to my room, took my weekly pill box and swallowed every pill. I knew there was little chance it would kill me so I tried slitting my wrists with a blade at the same time. But damn it's really hard to get deep enough. I was so serene during all this: it wasn't a huge breakdown, I was very calm and decisive. I really wanted to end my life.

Just before all this I sent a goodbye text to my friends who immediately started calling me. Since I wasn't responding, one of them called my father who rushed towards my room. He saw what I had done and called for my mom. They called the ER to say that we were coming as fast as possible. During the car ride I was still serene and I didn't feel ill or anything and I just remember thinking "Fuck, why didn't I take the box of painkillers too".

When we got to the hospital, they put me directly in a bed and there was five to six people doing tests on me or hooking me up to something. They also made me drink activated charcoal.

Apparently I fell asleep and my parents ended up leaving at 1 am. I woke up to two psychiatrists telling me I was going back to the psych ward which I was vehemently opposed to. Even worse, the only bed left was at the unit I hate (Hermès). I knew that whatever I said they would send me there so I decided to run away. I unhooked everything attached to me, took my bag and headed for the exit. Security and the nurses were quick to catch me and pull me back to the bed. In the end they decided to keep me there one night and talk about the hospitalisation the next day (thursday).

ICU

I slept from about three am to five am. I honestly just did nothing waiting for the psychiatrist to come at whatever time. I wasn't allowed to get up because my heart rate was way too high so I had to pee in a bowl on my bed and clean myself with a bucket of water and a towel. I got to eat breakfast but they didn't let me go smoke a cigarette so I was kind of pissed about that.

Anyways, at about ten the psychiatrist finally came and made me understand I was going to the hospital wether I like it or not. I held my head high and gave him all my valid reasons why I didn't want to go. I didn't know this then but legally if there's a suicide attempt it's mandatory that they send the person to the psych ward. But I didn't wanna go and I stayed firm. So he admitted me involuntarily. But I was lucky because there was suddenly a free bed at the unit I like (Atlas).

I waited a bit before the paramedics came to pick me up. They were very nice and let me smoke a cigarette before hitting the road.

Little adventure

During the drive I was planning my escape. I was lucky because the bus was going to pass at the same time we were going to arrive. I put my cards in my phone, my cigarettes in my pockets and waited stressfully.

Once we arrived my heart was beating so fast; I hesitated for a moment. Then I started running towards the bus stop. One of the paramedics yelled "hey!" but didn't try to catch me. I just kept running without looking behind until I got to the bus stop. It hadn't arrived yet so I waited anxiously while seeing the paramedic walking towards me. When she started getting a little too close I ran up the other side of the road. The paramedic yelled that the police would come and get me or something. I hid behind garbage cans but I could see her coming up but then she went back down. I decided to go down to the bus stop and see if it was finally here. It was! I started walking fast towards the bus and got in. I had my bus pass ready when one lady said "you're getting off, the paramedic is waiting for you". I turned around and found myself nose to nose with her. At that point I gave up and went with her while I was bawling my eyes out.

2 weeks at Atlas

After six days I was back (Friday-Thursday) there and I felt disheartened. I was supposed to be dead for God's sake! I was so angry I was back that I yelled at the nurse who welcomed me back. Anyways they showed me my room: same room, same bed as the week before.And then I fell into the same routine: sleep, smoke, eat, repeat. I was smoking weed but not drinking alcohol.

Since I was placed there against my will I decided to make an appeal. I contacted the judge and we set a date for the expert's evaluation and the hearing. I think I met the expert on Saturday late in the afternoon. He was nice but I wasn't very comfortable. He asked me a bunch of questions and took notes. At the time I didn't know why we were doing this so I stayed honest and said everything how it was. Now I wish I hadn't said some things....

Anyways Monday came around and the hearing was scheduled for 3:30 pm. I was stressed all day long but my ergo-therapy session helped me calm my nerves a bit.

The hearing

I was accompanied by my doctor while five women were in front of us. Honestly three of them were useless. First I got to read the expert's report which had a lot of mistakes so I was already mad. The expert had the nerve to diagnose me with BPD after seeing me for thirty minutes. My blood is boiling just thinking about it.

Then the judge asked the doctor to explain the situation since my arrival. He said everything that was true without taking sides; he stayed neutral. Then I got to talk: I told them about all the mistakes in the report and told them why I wanted to get out. I said that to give life a second chance I needed to be outside with my friends and family. That being locked inside would just make me want to die more.

Then the judge asked the doctor and me to go outside while they deliberated.

When we got back inside they directly said that they rejected my appeal. And that's when I really got mad. I wanted to scream at them and run away but I tried to stay calm.

When I got back to the unit I was so mad I didn't eat dinner and sent the judge a hate e-mail. Later on I got back to my senses and sent an apology.

The rest of my stay at Atlas

I didn't know how long I was going to stay and the fact that they rejected my appeal made it harder for me to get out fast. At least the doctor and I both wanted me to leave as fast as possible. I basically waisted time doing nothing (tiktoks lmao) for a few days. We didn't have any weed left so I started drinking again (after 9 days of being sober ughhh).

Then one day they told me I could probably get out on Tuesday (so I would have stayed 1 week and a half). The problem is that Monday night I tried to take my life again by slitting my wrists. All it did was make me end up at the ER to get stitches.

Anyways the next day (Tuesday) I saw the doctors late in the afternoon and they had already decided that I was going to stay longer. They suggested a transfer to another unit (Callisto, for depressions and personality disorders) because Atlas wasn't a unit adapted to my situation. I agreed and then waited until they told me when I was doing to transfer. After two days they finally told me I could transfer Friday morning. So I packed my bags nervously and prepared myself mentally to meet new people.

Transfer to Callisto

The first two days were awkward; I didn't feel at my place or in security. On the good side of things I am now with more people my age, two of which I know from the outside. I haven't made a lot of progress to say the least. My appointments with the doctor seem useless to me because we don't talk much. At first I could only go outside with the staff and had to have my visits inside. Then they said they would open my frame if I was under 500. Since I was smoking everyday (but not drinking anymore) I thought I was done for but the test came out under 150 so I got to have the permission to go outside alone three times for thirty minutes. And they shouldn't have... I went directly to the shop to buy alcohol again. I caved again and I drank for 2-3 days then I decided to stop again. I'm still smoking weed though because I don't want to stop everything at the same time.

Now

I've been here for two weeks and I've made some friends and had some good times but I still feel the same: empty and lost. They said was supposed to stay here two weeks but I'm guessing they won't let me out next week...

Anyways, that's my update. Thank you for reading this and give it a like if you liked it. Until next time; goodbye!